Part Two, Chapter Four

All afternoon Carina and Donovan took turns clearing the mountain road of stones, but it was brutal work. Late in the afternoon, Carina paused and asked, "Can I have some?"

She had smelled the alcohol on his breath. He hesitated to share, for fear it might trigger some new expression of grief, but the cider had strengthened him, the sun was going down soon and if it would fortify her for the final stretch of road ahead... "It's in my bag, underneath my jacket."

When they reached the end of the rocky pass and saw a clear path ahead on the way down, they sighed with exhaustion and relief. Donovan's cheer lasted only a moment though, as he looked at the sky. "It'll be dark soon." He glanced around skeptically. Unless they planned to camp in the middle of the road, there was nowhere to go, only the steep rise of the mountain to one side and a godless, breath-defying drop on the other.

"The Sanchez place is at the foot of this mountain," Carina said. "If we're careful, and if we use the lanterns, and if the road is clear the rest of the way down..."

"That's a lot of ifs."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Donovan drove the team down the switchbacks as fast as he dared, but the road was steep, the jennies were tired, and the lengthening blue shadows made the footing uncertain. Finally he turned to Carina in frustration. "I guess we're going to need those lanterns after all."

He set the brake and they brought out the solar lights from where they had been charging during the light of day. They hung one on each side of the front of the wagon, and Carina took a third lantern and walked ahead of the team.

It took nearly an hour, but finally they saw a pinprick of light in the distance. "That's the place," Carina said unnecessarily.

It seemed like another hour before they pulled in at the gate, but that was just a trick of the darkness and exhaustion. They stopped in front of an insignificant adobe farmhouse, and before they could get down and knock, an old man emerged from a blue front door hung with red peppers. He approached them holding a lantern aloft while a terrier ran toward the wagon, yapping. "Good evening, strangers. Buenas noches."

"Noches, Manny," Carina said. "It's me, Carina Cunningham."

The man's wrinkled face broke into a pleased but perplexed smile. "Carinita?" He shone the light in her face. "Pos, it is you! Where did you come from? You look tired." He set the lantern on the ground and helped her from the cart. "Who is this with you?"

"Donovan Sloan. A new member of our family."

Manny frowned in confusion but asked no questions. "Mucho gusto." He nodded in Donovan's direction. "Come inside. Elena will fix you something to eat while I put your team up for the night. Then you can give us the news and tell us what brings you out this way."

Donovan climbed down from the wagon. He was exhausted and apparently Carina was too, because suddenly her knees buckled. She grabbed Manny's arm and Donovan rushed to her side and supported her around the waist. She managed a tight smile, but he could tell it was only for appearance. She was so pale even her lips were white. "Let's get her onto a bed or something," Donovan said. "She hasn't been well and I think today was too much for her."

* * *

They stayed a full day at the Sanchez place while Elena and Manny fussed over Carina as if she were their own daughter. She almost had been, as Donovan found out from the pieces of conversation he picked up. She had once been engaged to their son, Miguel, who had been aiding the rebellion and was forced to flee in the middle of the night. "Poor Miguelito," he heard over and over again.

"I'm sure he made it to Canada."

"Yes, of course. That's where he said he would go if he was ever in danger."

"I wish he would write."

"He can't divulge his location. It's the only way he can stay safe."

Denial, all of it. Donovan now saw how easy it had been for Carina to fall into the same trap, with Miles away for so long. It was easier to lie to oneself than to accept the harsh realities. He allowed himself a cynical shake of the head as he made repairs to the wagon during their extended visit. "I might lie to other people," he thought, "But at least I don't lie to myself." It didn't occur to him to wonder if this was a virtue.

Manny and Elena were kind, and under their care Carina got some of her strength back. They plied her with rich foods which she nibbled politely, and she spent an inordinate amount of time burrowed in the soft white sheets and pillows of Miguel's old bed. If this caused her any painful memories, she hid it well.

She hid everything well. She deflected questions so neatly and managed to spend so much time sleeping that by the time they left on the morning of the second day, the gentle old couple were almost as clueless as to their real errand as when Carina and Donovan first arrived.

Once back on the road, however, Carina slumped into a pensive mood. "I'm tired," she said, in answer to Donovan's inquiries, and he knew she didn't speak of an exhaustion of the body but of the spirit.

After another day on the road and a night at a deserted recreational campground in the mountains, they finally found themselves on a bluff overlooking a scene of bustling activity. There were buildings here, roads, and even electric lights and motor vehicles. This was a small federal city. They had reached civilization at last.

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